DOR. You appear to me quite low-spirited! What can be the matter with
you, Mrs. Jourdain?
MRS. JOUR. My head is bigger than my fist, and yet it isn't swollen.
DOR. Where is your daughter, that I have not seen her?
MRS. JOUR. My daughter is very well where she is.
DOR. How does she get on?
MRS. JOUR. She gets on on her two legs.
DOR. Would you not like one of these days to come with her to see the
ballet and the play which are being acted at court?
MRS. JOUR. Ah! yes. We have a great fancy for laughing, a great fancy
have we!
DOR. I think, Mrs. Jourdain, that you must have had plenty of lovers
in your young days, so handsome, and so sweet-tempered as you must
have been.
MRS. JOUR. My goodness, Sir! Has Mrs. Jourdain grown decrepit, and
does her head already shake on her shoulders?
DOR. Oh! Mrs Jourdain, I really beg your pardon! I had forgotten that
you are young, and I am very often absent. I beg of you to excuse my
impertinence.